Late
by auraspirit157
Summary: Despite being late for something important, Damian gets Aiden to do a quick job for him. A little one-shot from before the events of the game. (Contains swearing that may be higher then the rating)


**Let's play a game. It's called, Spot the References! I literally tried to put a lot of references to this and other games in this one-shot. **

**Took me a while to think of this one, to be honest. It was a request from one of you, but I wanted to make sure I got it right. Also, I wanted an excuse to write Damian XD**

**Read on, procrastinators, read on. **

"It won't take long, trust me."

"Can't it just fucking wait?"

"You're probably the only twenty-something on this planet that doesn't look forward to going to a club."

"I'm thirty-two, and I'm going to be late."

"Well the more you bitch about it, the longer it will take."

A sigh escapes the young Aiden Pearce as he looks back at the club. It's near midnight, but the Technicolor building is bursting at the seams with eager patrons. He had never been the life of the party; his friends got on him about that constantly. Something about losing yourself in a haze of alcohol and neon lights wasn't appealing to him. He liked to be alert at all times, disappointing his people with his rigid, near religious-like sobriety.

Yet he's still in front of one of the bigger clubs in Chicago. Thankfully, this won't require getting royally wasted for the purpose of his objective. He needed a hard drive from the owner. Pretty simply if he had time to plan it out.

Tonight, however, he's in a hurry.

"Why don't you do this shit?" Aiden mumbles half to himself, though he addresses hi mentor, who manages to hear him through the microphone.

"Oh, Pearce, if _I _went out there whose going to do all the magic tricks?" Damien Brenks speaks through an earpiece, the smirk very apparent in his voice.

"I can do your job, Brenks," Aiden retaliates, then smiles a little, "Or are you worried about pulling something?"

"Ha ha. You're hilarious kid. Hey, aren't you late for something?"

The younger man grimaces, already getting distracted. He needed to work on that. He glances back at the long line of waiting people to get in the club, "It's going to take a while if I have to wait in line."

Beside him, a steam pipe suddenly explodes, a column of smoke billowing up from the road. The people in line react in various extents of panic, running off in different directions.

Damian's laugh nearly causes static, "What line?"

Aiden sighs in agitation, but takes the opportunity to slip inside, "You could have hurt somebody."

"There are imminent sacrifices in out line of work."

"Whatever. Where am I going?"

"Easy, just find the owner. Guy's name is Troy Larado, he'll probably be drifting around."

"He's probably going to be an asshole."

"He probably is, but you are too, so you should get along."

"Takes one to know one."

"Smart ass."

Aiden pauses right before the dance floor, looking out at the congested crowd of bodies. The thought of sifting through them all filled him with displeasure, resulting with him hugging the edges of the area. He passes wallflowers and people-watchers on his way, not particularly sure what kind of person he's looking for.

He passes a table where three younger people are chatting. One leans his elbows heavily on the table, "God, this music sucks."

"Don't even complain. You're lucky they accepted the fake ID I made for you." One of two girls at the table scolds him, possessing a French accent, "And it's not that bad."

"They're not even mixing that well! How can you just ignore this travesty?" the teenager slaps his hand on the table before raising it again in a fist, "Anarchy! Seize the soundboard!"

The French woman and the third member of the table roll their eyes, the latter lowering the boy's hand, "Honey, you need to calm down."

The boy pouts, turning and locking eyes with Aiden, "Hey! Do you think this music sucks? Tell me you think it sucks."

Aiden remains silent for a minute, wanting to pretend like he didn't hear him. However, he remembers his situation and approaches the table, "I honestly didn't notice."

"Ha. You're just picky, JB." The French woman says with a smirk.

JB groans like a child, "Oh come on Clara! How am I in the minority here? Am I the only one that notices how bad the music is? Anarch-"

The second woman stretches across the table, sticking the olive from her martini in the boy's mouth, "No. No anarchy. Eat and olive."

He chokes a little on the vegetable before swallowing it reluctantly, "Poppy!"

She shrugs, turning to Aiden in her stool. Her blue eye shadow stands out starkly against her dark skin, "Thanks for not encouraging him."

"No problem. He seems pretty excitable." Aiden attempts to keep a casual tone as he speaks, "You could just talk to the owner about the music, couldn't you?

The French girl, Clara, scoffs loudly, "That asshole? You'd have a better chance convincing a wall to lose a game of tennis."

Aiden hides his grimace, "Seriously?"

"Haven't been here before, huh?" Poppy speaks again, tracing her finger around her martini glass, "Yeah, he won't take shit from anyone. He's been really jumpy tonight especially. He keeps thinking someone is gonna steal something off him."

"Why would he think that?"

"Who knows? He's paranoid."

"Any idea where I can find him?"

"He kinda drifts around, but if you hang out by the bar he'll probably come by. Why?"

"I need…to talk to him."

All three patrons seem curious, but none attempt to investigate, much to Aiden's relief. He thanks them, making his way to the bar. Just in ear shot, he hears JB make a comment to the two girls.

"That guy was really cute…"

The bar looks around the back of the building, illuminated by dark blue lights. Aiden sits on one of the stools, glancing around for anyone that stands out.

"What would you like?"

He looks up at the bartender, who looks at him expectantly. He absentmindedly orders Jameson on the rocks.

"Least you don't order girly shit." Damien's voice comes through his earpiece, making the younger man jump.

The bartender raises an eyebrow, "You alright there?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Aiden replies, suppressing irritation.

The bartender watches him for a moment before visibly rolling his eyes, "Whatever."

He starts making Aiden's drink. The young hacker noticing some intricate tattoos inking his wrist. He asks as casually as possible, "You know who the owner is?" He wasn't good at being casual, there was a twitching part of him that wanted to demand it.

The bartender didn't seem to care about his tone at all, "he should be around here soon. But if you want to keep your head I suggest not chatting with him."

"A lot of people have been saying that."

"Then you should be listening shouldn't you?"

"I'm not a good listener."

The bartender smiles a little, handing him his drink, "You and me both."

Aiden offers a smile in return, taking the drink. He takes out his phone upon feeling a vibration in his pocket, reading the text: _Are you going to be here soon? She's starting to think you're going to miss it._

The reminder makes Aiden mutter to himself. He would have to smack Damien later for making him late, but he couldn't back out now. He quickly texts back a fairly neutral response before glancing up. A man approaches the bar, leaning on the counter with an annoyed expression.

"Just give me my usual and quick." He snaps, not even looking at the bartender.

"Uh…and that would be what?" the bartender asks, his voice teetering with caution.

The man looks up, raising an eyebrow, "Who the hell are you? Where's the other guy, uh…Andy?"

"My name is Desmond and I'm filling in for _Austin. _Sorry—"

"Just stop talking. Why wasn't I told about this?"

"You were—"

"What did I just say?"

"He was answering your question." Aiden cuts in, not really meaning to. He didn't know who the guy thought he was, nor did he care, but the hacker didn't want to listen to assholes.

The extravagantly-dressed man turns to him, "Was I talking to you? I don't think I was."

"Just making a comment," Aiden says coolly, taking another drink before looking sideways at him, "You remember asking him a question, right?"

"You know what? I do. However, I don't remember _you. _How did someone like you get in here?"

"Does it matter?"

"I like to know everyone that comes into _my _club."

"_Your _club?" Aiden pauses, turning to the man whose faze had narrowed toward him. The hacker smirks a little, turning back, "Wow…that makes a lot of sense. Guess it's true what they say about you."

"Oh yeah?" Troy Larado's voice hardens, as if even the aspect of any gossip about him made him angry, "And what do they say?"

Aiden fakes a sincere smile, raising his glass to his lips, "That you…are a well-dressed man."

Desmond, who had returned to his work, snorts loudly. Troy shoots a glance at the man, causing him to turn away, but he maintains an amused smirk. The owner turns his attention back to Aiden. His expression changes, clearly taking the obvious sarcastic comment as a compliment, "Thanks, but you aren't getting any free drinks from the owner tonight."

"Damn," Aiden says bluntly, taking a drink. He hears a spunky alarm through the music, seeing Tony fumble a small object from his pocket. The hacker sees the object as a smartphone.

"Well then, guy's got the shiny new technology," Damien says through the earpiece.

"You have touch screens like that one your computer, don't you?" Aiden mumbles aloud, knowing his mentor was watching through cameras.

"But that's a phone. It's gonna blow up like a volcano in a couple years and you know it," a laugh escapes him, "But he clearly doesn't know how to use it."

Aiden looks back, seeing the owner staring down at the rectangle with a confused look. He didn't know much about smart phones either, but he was curious about them. After a beat of pause he decides to ask, "What do you have there?"

"An irritating piece of shit, that's what. I can't get my email to work on the damn thing." He grumbles, really just clicking random buttons at this point.

Aiden rolls his eyes, holding out his hand, "Need some help?"

Troy looks at him with a raised eyebrow, "How do I know you won't just run off with it? You don't seem like the type to trust with someone's phone."

"You have a shit tone of security around and I have an entire dance floor to run through. If I wanted to steal anything, I wouldn't get very far, would I?"

The owner watches him for a second. He sighs, handing him the phone, "Just fix it."

Aiden takes the device, looking at the tiny squares. It took him all of a second to get the email working, but he had a better idea.

"Your email isn't synced up to the phone." He lies, conjuring it as he speaks, "If you have a computer, I could do it for you."

Troy groans, "Are you serious? Why the hell do I have to do that?"

"Trust me, my sister had this problem too. I'm sure you have a laptop around here somewhere."

"Of course I do—"

"Then it shouldn't be a problem."

Troy seems to be considering this. Meanwhile, the bartender looks at Aiden with the look of someone that could smell bullshit. He looks back at the owner, "You know I think this guy—"

"Hasn't paid for his drink yet." Aiden interrupts him, producing a fifty from his pocket and handing it to him, "Here."

Desmond takes the money, sharing a look of mutual agreement with the hacker. He folds up the money, finishing what he started, "I think he's totally reliable. You should let him help you."

Troy glares at him, "Don't you have a job to do, Daniel?"

"Desmond."

"Whatever, go do something."

Desmond glances at Aiden again with a small smirk before leaving to tend to the other patrons. The hacker looks at Troy, who is already walking off. He turns and looks at him like he's being irritating already. "Are you coming?"

Surprised that what he said worked, but not showing it, Aiden follows the owner. He leads him up a set of stairs to the upper level of the club. Upon entering through a door Aiden keeps it open just long enough for Damien to jump to the next camera. The music is swiftly cut off, a strange, acoustic silence echoing throughout the hall. He takes note of a couple of security guards patrolling the area.

Troy turns, unlocking one of the hall's doors. He follows him into a highly decorated office.

"This kinda reminds me of a game I played once. Except the club owner was a perverted jackass and the guy following him was a slutty female journalist," Damien comments rather casually, the sound of him drinking something being heard, "I doubt he's going to make you strip though."

Aiden rolls his eyes, mumbling quietly, "Are you drunk?"

"A glass of wine a day is said to help the heart, my boy."

The younger hacker reluctantly holds back a comeback as Troy looks at him expectantly from the desk. He had opened an expensive-looking laptop and leans against the wall, "Care to do what you said you would?"

"Right…" Aiden mutters, approaching with a glance at the cameras, hoping Damien picked up on what he needed to do.

A security guard from outside opens the door, "Uh…sir?"

"What the hell is it?" Troy snaps.

"I think you might want to go to the floor, some kid thinks he's funny. He just tackled the DJ and started playing his own music…"

"Why aren't you taking care of it?"

"We're trying, but the kid keeps running around and…well…the crowd kinda liked the music—"

"Christ…fine!" The owner tosses his keys on the desk roughly, leaving the room quickly, muttering on his way, "First the steam pipe now this…"

As soon as the door closes, Damien laughs shortly, "I was going to cause a distraction to get him to leave but fuck it I guess someone else is doing my job."

"Great, maybe I should work with him instead of you," Aiden says with a smirk, searching the desk for the hard drive he's looking for.

"Oh please, you couldn't find your way out of your own house without me."

"At least I _leave _my house."

"Haha, you're fucking hilarious."

"I know."

A couple of minutes pass with no luck. Upon looking at the surface of the desk, however. Aiden sees the owner's keys. An unassuming little USB drive hangs from a chain.

"There you are…" the hacker speaks to himself, pulling the drive free of the chain.

Damien speaks again, "While you're at it you should take his laptop too. And that fucking rabbid bobble head on the shelf."

"I think he'd notice that. And what even…?"

"Aren't you late for something?"

Aiden curses to himself, moving to the door. He reaches for the handle, then stops, hearing returning footsteps. He steps back just as the door opens and Troy stands in front of him.

The owner looks at him curiously, "That was fast."

"It didn't take long." Aiden says quickly, handing him his phone, "It'll work now."

"Great," He takes the phone, typing on it quickly, "I'm going to have to have you return anything you stole."

Aiden's muscles tighten slightly, "I didn't steal anything."

"Really? I guess you wouldn't mind hanging around while I check then, right?" he moves away, heading to the desk.

Aiden rolls his eyes in an attempt to make the request sound ridiculous, "I don't have to fucking stay here."

"Security says otherwise. I know your type and I have more than a feeling that you're not who you're pretending to be."

The hacker growls under his breath, but keeps his composure, looking up with a smile, "Would you know my type in the dark?"

Troy looks up with an agitated but curious look, "What—"

He doesn't finish before the club is plunged into darkness. Aiden bolts out the door. Damien speaks through chuckles in his ear, "Nice one-liner, I should write that one down."

"Figured it would be a good signal." Aiden responds, slowing to a walk as soon as he gets to the dance floor. Panicked patrons flood to the doors, the hacker easily slipping out along with them.

The lights blink back on when he's out, Damien speaking again, "Nice job. Go to the alley across the street, I've got a car for you."

"How nice of you." Aiden says as he jogs into the alley. He gets into the lone car sitting within, the engine running and the radio playing techno music.

Damien sits in the passenger seat, his feet up one the dashboard and his computer cradled in his lap. He looks up at Aiden with a sly smile, turning down the music. He holds out his hand, "Hard drive?"

Aiden sits in the driver's seat, handing his mentor the USB. Damien slips it in his pocket as he speaks, "I think you have someplace to be."

"Yeah, well, you'll have to find a new partner. Nicole's going to kill me." Aiden says, still rather annoyed at his partner for dragging him there, "There's no way—"

"Pearce."

The young hacker looks at Damien with a raised eyebrow. His mentor's smile becomes surprisingly sincere, gesturing to the road beyond the alley, "I'll help you out. Just drive as fast as you fucking can."

Curious, but not wanting to ask, Aiden pulls out of the alley. He speeds down the road far over what was legally acceptable, but starts to slow at an incoming red light.

Damien busies himself on the computer, his relaxed position not changing despite the speed, "Don't slow down." Is all he says; the light suddenly turning green at the press of a key.

Aiden quickly sees what he's doing. He races past every intersection, conveniently hitting a green light every time without fail. A bridge comes down for him as soon as he reaches it, endangering a few cars in its sudden command.

He reaches his destination in half the time he expected.

"Least you didn't wreak my car. You would have been paying for it." Damien says, yet his normal cocky tone has softened.

Aiden stares at his mentor, "What the fuck was that—"

"I know this is important to you, Pearce." He interrupts him again, clicking a command on his computer, the driver's door flinging open, "don't get used to it."

He wanted to thank him, but he couldn't manage to form the words. Instead he simply nods to the older hacker, climbing out of the car and heading to the entrance to the hospital.

_**[Hack]_378_Chicago Hospital_[Pearce}_A-life-so-short**_

The hospital is very quiet at this time of the night. Its grey-white walls and reflectively clean title make the silence eerie.

Aiden's footsteps nearly echo as he hurries down the hall as a quick but respectful speed. He skids to a stop upon reaching the room he's looking for. A nurse steps out, looking at him with an annoyed expression. "You're late."

"Yeah…I know," Aiden says, genuinely ashamed that it took him so long, "Is she alright? Did everything go OK?"

"Perfectly. Nothing to worry about," the nurse's face soften upon hearing the sheer apology in Aiden's voice, "she's waiting for you. Both of them."

He nods, slipping past her and into the room. Nicole Pearce sits up in bed. She looks incredibly tired, dressed in hospital robes and hair undone. Yet, a smile is apparent on her face, her head down.

Her eyes along with Aiden's rest on the newborn daughter in her arms.

The hacker gently sits at the end of the bed. His sister doesn't look up immediately, instead speaking quietly, "You're—"

"Late, I know," Aiden's voice practically trembles with apology, moving a bit closer to her.

Nicole smiles, looking up at him, "Really? Seems right on time for your standards." She says, rocking the child gently in her arms, "God, she's so beautiful."

"Incredibly…" Aiden's voice trails off, biting his tongue. He's terrible at being even remotely emotional. Yet, his smile breaks through with such effortless grace it's as if he was never anything but happy.

"I have a name, but I'm only going to use it if you like it," Nicole speaks, acknowledging her brother's smile with her own, "Lena. How does that sound."

Aiden looks at the small child in his sister's arms. She sleeps soundly, tiny little breaths escaping her. The hacker could barely process how fragile she was; and so utterly beautiful at the same time.

"That's perfect," He says when he finally finds the words.

"Glad you think so," his sister had been watching him, knowing exactly how he felt, and holding out the tiny human to him, "Want to hold her?"

His muscles tighten, but he nods, taking the newborn from her arms as gently as humanly possible. He handles her like a piece of glass, every movement delicate.

_Lena._

He thinks about Jacks, how excited he would be to see his baby sister. Yet, the hacker couldn't shake some feeling deep within; some nagging, indescribably noticeable feeling of paranoia.

_I'll be here for you, Lena. I'll protect you, no matter what. _


End file.
